Mason The Piglet

When my friend Deanna read this blog and saw that other people had been mentioned but she hadn’t, she quickly demanded I put that right. I initially promised that I’d only write nice things about her, but now I’ve decided that I’m not going to do that (in case you think I’m being mean, I’m not – my tongue is firmly in cheek). After all, she did rob me of what might be my only legacy…

Once upon a time, a few years ago, Deanna told that she and her family had acquired some piglets, and that she’d named one of them after me. I can’t remember how I reacted to this, but knowing me I probably laughed in her face. As time went by, however, I remember repeatedly asking after my porcine namesake, whilst wondering if I’d ever have the opportunity to meet or bond with him. Even at my young age, I couldn’t help but wonder whether any woman would love me enough to have kids with me, so I was eagerly keeping a close eye on the piglet. Sadly, however, the sharpened blade intervened, and Mason the piglet left this mortal coil, his body free to be covered in lashings of HP sauce as part of a Saturday morning bacon sandwich. When Deanna informed me of his untimely passing, any shock was displaced by the feeling that at least he died in the most delicious way possible.

I still think of Mason the piglet from time to time, and when I do I really wonder whether he will be the only indication of my existence on Earth. Not that anyone will know, because he’s long since been eaten – I ought to disown Deanna for this, because I have done for pretty much every slip-up she’s made since (again, just joking). Thankfully, this blog might last and be something I can leave behind, and there’s no way she can interfere with this, unlike everything else 😉

Mason

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